SERAFINA'S POV
I hadn't slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Lorenzo Vitale looking at me like he could see straight through every lie I'd told.
Afte struggling for hours, I was finally able to sleep. But even in my dreams, I could feel his gaze, his voice, and the way he looked at me.
Matteo was already waiting when I arrived at the safe house around 9 in the morning. He sat with his laptop open with recording equipment spread out in front of him.
"You're late." He said without looking up.
"I'm five minutes early."
"For you, that's late." He finally looked at me. "How did it go?"
I sat opposite to him, setting my coffee on the table.
Where do I even start?
"He asked me to dinner tonight."
Matteo's expression didn't change, but I saw his jaw tighten slightly.
"That's good. Fast progression."
"To discuss commissioning a piece." I added.
"Even better. He's interested in your work which gives you a reason to stay close." Matteo pulled up surveillance photos from the gallery on his laptop. "What do you think about him?"
"More intelligent than the reports suggested, and very observant. He asked very specific questions about my background."
"What kind of questions?"
"About Florence, my grandmother, where exactly I lived, where I studied, who my teachers were." I wrapped my hands around the coffee cup. "It felt like an interrogation disguised as conversation."
"Did your cover hold?"
"Yes. Everything I told him was verifiable. But..."
"But what?"
"He's suspicious." I admitted. "I could feel it. The way he watched me, the questions he asked. He knows something's off."
Matteo leaned back in his chair.
"Suspicion is normal. He'd be an idiot not to be suspicious of a stranger appearing in his life at a convenient time. The question is: does he suspect you specifically, or is he just paranoid in general?"
"I don't know."
"That's not good enough, Sera. You need to know."
"Well, I don't!" The words came out louder than I intended. "He's not some arrogant businessman who thinks with his di*k. He's smart, and every word that came out of his mouth felt like a test I didn't know I was taking."
Matteo looked at me with concern?Frustration?
"You're rattled." Hesaid.
"I'm not…"
"Don't lie to me. I've trained you for eight years. I've sent you on a dozen missions. I've never seen you like this." He leaned forward. "What happened last night, Sera? Really?"
I didn't know anymore.
"We talked about art but the whole time I felt like we were having two conversations: the one about art, and another one underneath that I couldn't quite hear."
"That's good on his part."
"Or it means he sees through me and he's playing along to figure out what I want."
"If he thought you were a threat, you'd be dead already. The fact that he's asking you to dinner means he's intrigued, not suspicious."
I wanted to believe that. But something in Lorenzo's eyes last night had made me feel exposed.
"Your father is expecting results."
"Then tell him the mission is proceeding as planned. I've made contact, established my cover as a legitimate artist, and secured a dinner date with the target. By the end of the week, I'll be close enough to start gathering intelligence."
Matteo was quiet for a moment. Then he reached into his bag and pulled out a small black case.
"New surveillance equipment." He said, opening it. "Latest tech. Audio recorder, smaller than the last one, transmits directly to my phone. I'll be able to hear everything in real time."
"You want me to wear it to the dinner with Lorenzo Vitale."
"I want to make sure you're safe. If anything goes wrong…"
"Nothing will go wrong."
"You don't know that. You just said yourself he's suspicious, he's smart, he's unpredictable. I can't protect you if I don't know what's happening."
"Matteo…"
"Don't." He cut me off. "Just take the wire. Wear it tonight and let me do my job."
"Okay." I took the wire, and stood up. "I'll check in after dinner."
"Sera."
I turned back.
"Be careful."
I nodded and left before he could say anything else.
I was halfway through my third outfit change when my phone buzzed. My hands trembled slightly as I read the sender's name: LORENZO VITALE.
Change of plans. I'd like to see where you work before dinner. Your studio. I'll be there in an hour.
My stomach dropped. He wanted to see my studio. I stared at the message, my mind was racing. This wasn't part of the plan. Dinner at a public setting was manageable. But my studio?
That was intimate, personal and dangerous.
I called Matteo immediately.
"He wants to see my studio. He's coming here in an hour."
"That's actually good." Matteo said. "It shows he's interested in your work and you."
"Or he's checking to see if my cover is real. If I'm actually an artist or just playing one."
"Your studio is perfect, Sera."
He was right. There were art supplies, paintings in various stages of completion, sketches on the walls, even fake photos of my family were on the bookshelf.
"But what if he finds something?" I asked. "What if there's one detail we missed, one thing out of place.."
"There isn't. You've been living that cover for two years." Matteo paused. "Sera, you need to calm down. You're spiraling."
He was right. I was spiraling.
Lorenzo Vitale was making me sloppy, making me doubt myself.
"What's in the studio that could expose you?"
"The knife under the couch cushion, the burner phone in the art supply drawer."
"Remove them." He ordered.
I hung up and immediately started moving. I put the knife and burner phone into my bag in the closet. I scanned the apartment making sure everything was perfect.
I changed into casual clothes, and wore the wire Matteo had given me in the morning. The doorbell rang at exactly 4 PM. I took a breath, and opened the door. And there he was.
LORENZO'S POV
The moment she opened the door, I knew I'd made the right decision to come here. Sera looked different here She was in casual clothes with almost no makeup. She looked even more beautiful.
"Lorenzo." She smiled. "You're right on time."
"I'm always on time." I stepped inside without waiting for invitation. "I hope I'm not interrupting your work."
"No, I was just planning few sketching ideas." She closed the door behind me.
"Good. I've been looking forward to seeing where you create."
I walked inside slowly, studying everything. The paintings were good but something about the space felt staged.
"This is lovely." I said, picking up a brush from her table. "How long have you had this space?"
"Two years. Since I moved to the city."
"And before that?"
"I worked from my grandmother's house in Florence. After she died, I decided it was time for a fresh start."
The story matched what Marco's background check had found. I moved to the paintings leaning against the wall.
"These are beautiful." I said. "But they're not what you showed at the gallery."
"No. The gallery pieces were more personal."
"Why don't you sell these?"
"They're just my learning exercises. Not good enough for exhibition."
"Tell me about your process." I said, moving to stand behind her at the easel. "How do you decide what to paint?"
"I…" She paused as I stepped closer, close enough that she could feel my body heat. "I look for moments, emotions, things that feel real."
"Do you think art can be fake?"
"Art is always honest even when the artist is trying to be fake."
Interesting answer.
"And what are you faking, Sera?"
She turned to face me, and we were suddenly too close. Her back was against the easel, and my body was blocking her escape.
"Everyone fakes something."
"True. But most people don't fake as well as you do."
"I don't know what you mean."
"Don't you?" I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "You're very controlled. Your every answer is perfectly crafted."
"That's just…"
"Professional." I finished. "Yes. You're very professional, Sera Moretti."
"This one." I said, breaking the moment to point at a painting on the wall. A woman with two faces: one in light, one in shadow. "This is different from the others."
"It's just an experiment…"
"I want to buy it." I said as I moved to stand in front of that painting.
"It's not for sale."
"Everything has a price. Name yours."
She said a number. $5K, reasonable for an emerging artist. I pulled out my checkbook, wrote $50K instead.
Her eyes went wide as I handed it to her.
"This is…this is too much…"
"It's exactly what it's worth. You're just used to being undervalued." I took the painting off the wall myself. "Consider it as an investment in your talent and in your future."
She took the check with shaking hands.
Now I'd see what she did with this money. Legitimate artists would deposit it, pay rent, buy supplies. Operatives would use it for operational expenses or send it to their handlers.
"I should go get ready for dinner." I said with painting in hand. "Unless you'd rather cancel? We could stay here instead."
"No. Dinner is fine."
"Then I'll see you at 7. The car will pick you up."
I walked towards the door. She followed me maintaining distance. At the door, I turned back.
"Thank you for letting me see where you work. It's very revealing."
"Is it?"
"Very." I leaned in, close enough that my lips brushed her ear. "I know what you are, piccola spia."
Little spy.